


Cobra In The Sun

by tricky_fix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricky_fix/pseuds/tricky_fix
Summary: On Thursday 31st July, 1980, Lily and James Potter have two beautiful twin boys. Named after their grandfathers, Fleamont and Harry Potter live happily, up until October 31st, 1981 when the Dark Lord Voldemort attacks. Unable to get to their children in time, Lily and James Potter are forced to watch as the Killing Curse is thrown at their baby boys. However, it rebounds, destroying Voldemort in the process, as well as leaving Fleamont with a gash over his heart and Harry with one on his forehead. As the years go by, Fleamont is hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived, and Harry unintentionally forgotten.Years later, in 1991, both boys are preparing to attend their First Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fleamont has unfortunately become spoilt and arrogant, while Harry is awkward, shy and unused to social situations. How will the Wizarding World react to finding out that there is more than one Potter twin, and the drastic differences between them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I've been just a little bit obsessed with these recently and I read a few absolutely /awful/ ones and my brain was just like "You can do better" so here. Even though I'm pretty sure this is going to be just as bad, lol.
> 
> Anyway, it's all JKR's, have fun reading my massacre of her amazing work!

With a tired smile on her face, Lily Evans Potter gazes at the swaddled babes in her arms, before turning the happy expression toward her husband. He leans down to brush her hair away from her sweaty forehead and gently presses a kiss to her cheek.

Fleamont, they've agreed to call the first twin, and he is older by two minutes. The child has his mother's hair, the fiery locks already thick on his head, and his father's hazel eyes, a warm brownish colour, with flecks of green scattered throughout. He makes a noise when his father coos at him, and his mouth opens wide, prompting quiet laughter.

The second babe, called Harry, has his father's hair, black as night and sticking up absolutely _everywhere._ He shares his mother's eyes. Lily's eyes. They are a pure green, shimmering like emeralds and reminiscent of green, green grass. They are glassy as tears fill them, but the child does not cry, merely whimpers in his mother's arms.

Proud of their children, and filled with a fierce, protective love, Lily and James swear that this war will not see the end of them, or their boys.

* * *

Lily is pleading before Voldemort, as he calls her a foolish girl for begging for her child's life. She has placed herself between the Dark Lord and her babies, and when the curse falls off his lips, James tackles her to the floor, and it misses them both completely, instead blasting the front of the crib to bits and sending shrapnel and Killing Curse right back at its caster.

She is dazed for a moment, but then she is pushing her husband away, rushing toward her baby, and fussing over the torn shirt and flesh. Neither of them notice Harry, whose eyes shine with unshed tears, but he doesn't make a sound.

* * *

Harry and Fleamont Potter are five years old today. By now, so many gifts, monetary or otherwise, have been sent to the family that they may spend every day for the rest of their lives and still live comfortably without having to work for it.

Harry knows how today will go. There will be a party with cake, and reporters. He will try to tell his Mummy that his name isn't on the cake, and she will smile at him, and say she'll try to fix that and then forget about him as soon as he's out of sight. The house elves will be the ones who put his name on the cake, even though it's tiny and tucked in a corner as an afterthought.

The guests will only know who he is when he's right in front of them, and they, too, will smile absentmindedly at him, and ruffle his hair and then they'll disappear, looking for Fleamont Potter and Harry will be all by himself yet again.

At five, Harry Potter is tired of trying to get his parents' attention. He realises that they'll remember he exists whenever next they have to pay attention to him. At five, he is disillusioned with the world, and the world does not know his name.

It doesn't matter, though, and Harry is usually happier on his own anyway. There is no one to ogle his lightning scar like they do Flea's X and no one to be unnerved by his Killing Curse green eyes. 

* * *

Harry and Fleamont Potter are eleven years old today. They both get their letters at the exact same time, and while his parents celebrate with Fleamont, Harry smiles to himself and hugs the envelope to his chest,while the owl looks at him, amused. He writes the acceptance letter, and sends it back with a cheerful, "I'm going to Hogwarts!" directed at the tawny owl. His glasses, the ones he has only because he told James about his vision problems and then latched onto his side for an entire day, almost fly off his face as he waves the owl away.

The trip to Diagon Alley is long, but Harry enjoys it anyway. Couple after family after fan, stops to thank Fleamont for saving their world, and to congratulate Lily and James on having such a great son. In the confusion, Harry disappears with his list in hand and a Potter vault Gringotts key. He wanders around for a while, stuttering through his orders at Madame Malkin's and Flourish and Blotts, receives his first wand from Ollivander, finds a beautiful snowy owl at Eeylop's Owl Emporium and makes his way through the rest of the list with haste.

The last stop is Slug and Jigger's and Harry has to wait while a man in snug black cloak and billowing robes receives a large order of ingredients. The man's name is Professor Snake, which Harry thinks is an unfortunate name, but he doesn't say anything. When the man looks at him, he does a weird movement, as though he recognises Harry, but he can't quite figure out where he came from. 

In a second, the expression is gone, though, and Harry is left wondering if he's imagined the whole thing. He shrugs it off in the way that children do, and he finishes getting what he needs, because while Harry was pondering, the man had left. Everything is shrunken down for him so that travel is a simple affair, and all it will take to return to its original size is a flip of an enchanted coin.

He locates his family, grips Lily's robes as they prepare to Apparate home, and then they are gone.

* * *

On September 1st, they are off to King's Cross to board the Hogwarts Express. Lily fusses over Fleamont the whole way there, and James responds to Harry's opinions about Hogwarts with an occasional distracted "That's nice, Harry." Harry doesn't mind. This is the most attention they've paid him in years. Their arrival at King's Cross is Harry's cue to disappear, especially when their first encounter is with a family of redheads who seem far, far too excited for his tastes.

Harry knows the Weasleys, or rather, he knows of them. They are friends with his parents, despite the mum and dad (Molly and Arthur? He can never remember the names) being years older than his own. The mum (Yes, Molly) drags Lily into a hug, joking that Fleamont could be one of her own children, and the dad (Arthur, right, Arthur) chuckles over something with James. Ron, who will be in Harry and Fleamont's year, listens obligingly as Fleamont prattles on about a new racing broom that he will use for Quidditch, even as he goes green at the price of it. 

The youngest, a girl, Ginevra, has a crush on Fleamont. It's obvious. Her face is fast approaching the colour of her hair, as he smiles at her and flicks his own dark mane. Harry readies himself to drag his things to a compartment, when two Weasleys, neither of which he has ever met, step in front of him.

"Hullo! I'm Gred, and this is Forge. Bit of a big head he's got, don't you think?"

Harry is so flabbergasted at being noticed, that he goes speechless for a moment. It takes a little while before the words can come out, but he manages to stammer a quiet, "You can see me?"

"'Course we can!" Forge says.

"Are we supposed to not see you?" Gred continues.

"Yes, but-"

Harry's cut off as it seems as though it is finally time to actually board the Hogwarts Express.

"Fred! George! Time to go!" Molly calls.

"You can come find us-"

"Or we'll come find you."

"What's your name, mate?" 

"I'm Harry-"

The pair are pulled away from him and Harry is left to take his things with him.

* * *

The next person Fleamont meets is Draco Malfoy, a snobby blond. This is their second encounter, the first having taken place in Diagon Alley. Fleamont went on about it for weeks, constantly looking for reassurances that "The Malfoys are rich, but the Potters are richer, right? Right?" 

One would think that the pair would get along, especially seeing as they were both arrogant, spoilt toerags, even if one tried to be and the other just _was,_ but no, they got along almost as well as cats and dogs. Which is to say, not at all.

A girl their age, with bushy hair and common sense, tries to separate the pair when they threaten to get physical, or bring out their wands, but is pushed away with a "Stupid mudblood!" and a "Stay out of this, you nosy bint!"

A short while later, a Prefect, tall, thin and brunette, comes up and diffuses the situation, causing everyone to return to wherever it is that they came from. He takes a look at the girl, who, although she is still on the floor, appears unharmed. Harry extends a hand to her and she takes it, pulling herself up.

The train has begun to move, so she stumbles a bit, but eventually she regains her balance. 

"Thank you..."

It takes Harry a moment to realise that she is waiting for him to say his name.

"Oh. Um. Harry. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Thank you, Harry. I'm Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's nothing. Nice to meet you, too."

The pair stand in silence for a moment, until Hermione suggests that they find a compartment. It's not easy, seeing as the others have already filled up, but it only takes five minutes for them too settle into one near the middle of the train. As with before, Hermione is the one to initiate a conversation.

"Have you read "Hogwarts: A History"? I have. You see, I didn't know I was a witch until very, very recently. When my letter came, I was so curious that I just _had_ to find out more about the school. What about you?"

Harry actually had read the book, alongside most of his textbooks. Remus, who used to be Harry's godfather before he became Fleamont's, used to tell him that the knowledge would someday prove useful.

"I did. It's really good to know some of the stuff that's in there."

"Isn't it? I have to say, though, that I find the Sorting really interesting. I think that Ravenclaw could be really good for me."

Harry considered for a moment. He'd heard good things about Gryffindor, and bad things about Slytherin all his life. He'd also heard that Hufflepuffs were nice but useless and all Ravenclaws were know-it-alls.

Fortunately, he knew otherwise, that while Gryffindor stood for chivalry and bravery, they weren't always the good guys, he knew that while Slytherin employed cunning and guile, they were ambitious beyond belief and sometimes, they could be the best guys. He knew that Puffs were hard workers and always ready to help, and that Ravenclaws, though they treasured intelligence, also held creativity in high esteem. It took knowing all these things for Harry to reply.

"That's good. I'm fine with any of them, to be honest."

"Even Slytherin? I've heard that they don't like muggleborns very much."

"All Slytherins can't be like that, right? It doesn't make sense."

"I suppose you're right..."

The pair talked for almost the entire ride, or at least Hermione talked, and Harry occasionally quietly replied. Soon enough, Harry was listening to Hermione's gasp of delight at seeing the impressive castle, while his own eyes shone with wonder, and then they were getting into a boat with Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas and then they were all listening to Hagrid and McGonagall and finally, they were in the castle.

The procession led to the Great Hall, where Dumbledore welcomed them all, signalling the beginning of the Sorting.

Harry took a little while to look around and up at the Head Table, recognising at once the Professor Snake, Dumbledore, and Hagrid. Everyone else was new to him, although he was sure his parents had talked about the teachers before.

Harry listened intently to the names as they were called, paying special attention to the ones that he knew.

Hermione did end up going to Ravenclaw, after a good three minutes and forty-two seconds. Neville took around three minutes as well, before being Sorted into Gryffindor. Much unlike Draco Malfoy, who was sent to Slytherin before the Hat could even be put on his head. 

As for Fleamont, the Hat sat on his head for a second or two before sending him to Gryffindor. Of course, at that, the entire room burst into applause and cheers and that caused him to strut all the more on his way to his new House table.

The whoops and whistles continued, up until it was replaced with dead silence when McGonagall called Harry's name. Nervously, he made his way toward the Hat and McGonagall, shocked as she was, placed it on his head.

For a moment, Harry was so fascinated by the sheer amount of magic that poured out of the Hat, that he forgot there were people gaping at him.

_"It's because they didn't know about you. They only ever heard about Fleamont Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and no one even remembered about dear Harry. Such a shame, too."_

_"What?"_

_"You are a a very clever young man, from what I see. Such raw power... Much potential as well. Given enough training, you could perhaps become greater than Albus Dumbledore himself."_

_"Even greater than Dumbledore?"_

_"As sure as I was Godric Gryffindor's hat! Now, speaking of Gryffindors, I have, of course, considered the House of the lions for you, because you would most definitely fit in there, but I hesitate to put you there. Do you know why?"_

_"I don't think so."_

_"Alright. I think, that you would do, much, much, better in Slytherin. You see, you've a drive, a_ hunger _to be known that far outweighs any other I've seen today. That, along with the assistance you will receive amongst the Snakes, will do you well in future, young man."_

_"Will it... Will it be worse for me than Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?"_

_"Well, no, I suppose not, but it would help you on your way to greatness, much more than Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, I have to say. You see, you're already quite the hardworking young man, and you understand the importance of kindness. You do not hunger for knowledge, although, you do recognise its importance. And Gryffindor, well, putting you back into your brother's shadow won't help anyone, will it?"_

_"I guess not."_

_"Glad you could see it my way, Harry Potter. Now, a word of advice?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Your House is your family, so I wouldn't worry too much about your parents if I were you. If they're any bit the way I remember them,_ _they won't mind that you've been Sorted into-"_

"SLYTHERIN!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath of the Sorting and Harry's introduction to Slytherin House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn't expecting such amazing feedback, but I got it anyway, so thank you all so, so much! 
> 
> I was really hoping to get back to this as soon as my exams were over but we've got CSEC coming up and this year seems so short that it's just been and will continue to be coursework after project after assignment and ugh, I haven't had any time at all. (Yes, in the span of about literal months, I have gotten nothing done and it's awful. Even my vacation was full of a bunch of take-home projects, but, ugh. That's not what either of us are here for and I'm sorry this update took so long.) 
> 
> To be as honest as possible, due to the fact that this was a spur of the moment, sudden kind of thing, I don't have a clear cut plan for this story. I have a fuzzy outline, and some definite plot differences, but that's about it. 
> 
> I'll most likely come up with the detailed bits as I go along, but still, if there's anything in particular that you want to see, let me know! If I like it, and I can find a way to work it in, I'm sure it'd make a great additiom. 
> 
> Anyway, all that said, have fun!

After having gone ignored for so long, Harry feels uneasy at having everyone's undivided attention. In the silence following the Hat's announcement, you could hear a pin drop, not that it would have mattered. Every single eye is on the twin of the Boy-Who-Lived. 

As he makes his way over to the Slytherin table, one of the Seventh Years brings her hands up, and as she processes exactly what just took place, begins to clap. The grin on her face and her actions jolt the boy at her side into action and he smirks, instructing the other First Years to move over. Soon enough, the entire table has broken out into applause. 

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Hermione's enthusiasm has proven contagious as the other Ravenclaws join in. A few Hufflepuffs cheer, knowing that the small encouragement works wonders with helping the the newbies settle down. At the Head Table, if the professors' applause seems a bit more confused than it does polite, no one calls them out on it. 

Still uncomfortable, but spirits boosted, Harry turns his attention back to the stool as Professor McGonagall clears her throat and calls for Quentin, Ana. The buzz quiets as the Sorting continues, and soon enough, Dumbledore is clearing his throat and standing to address them. 

"A most wonderful evening to all! To newcomers, I say, welcome, and to our returning staff and students, I say, welcome back!" 

As the Headmaster makes his statement, he spreads his arms in grand gesture, and, as expected, is met by whispers and excited comments. 

"You are, of course, here to learn about magic, and how to use it wisely; the experience will be both familiar and absolutely foreign in only the best of ways, as both our curriculum and faculty have undergone slight changes. Before we address those, however, some announcements: those who wish to try out for their House Quidditch team or perhaps, act as commentator, must report to their Head of House. Note that only Second Years and above are allowed to try out for the teams, if you will. 

"The third floor corridor is out of bounds to anyone who wishes to avoid a very painful death. The Forbidden Forest is aptly named, as it it just that.  _Forbidden._ As I mentioned earlier, there were changes to our staff. Our new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor, Quirinus Quirrell."

A thin man, head swathed in a turban stands for a moment, waves once at the audience, and retakes his seat. 

"That should be all, so I'll leave you with a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" 

The Headmaster moves to sit, and as his rump meets the ornate chair, a veritable feast spreads across the tables. Harry watches as the Hall fills with chatter, and students and faculty alike take to serving themselves. He picks up his plate and as he begins to put food into it, muses on what he had noticed so far. He can feel the old man's gaze on him, an odd mixture of confused, surprised, and analytical, although Harry knows they'd met before. Harry doesn't think much of it, besides that the man must be a bit mad. 

" _I_  think so. He certainly dresses like it." 

"Pardon?" 

Had he been speaking aloud? 

"You asked if Dumbledore's a bit mad, didn't you?" 

"I- I did, but I didn't think that anyone would actually hear me." 

"Why's that? I'd think you were used to attention by now." 

The girl has her hair cut into a bob, the ends falling at her chin, and Harry thinks back to the Sorting to figure out her name. He isn't particularly sure why he would care to answer, though, as her tone is a bit mocking, and the smile on her face could be considered more condescending than anything. 

Draco saves him from having to do so, however, by scoffing derisively. 

"Surprisingly enough, no, Pansy. They saved all that for the  _other_  precious Potter. I've not even met this one, see." He cocks his head to the side a bit, and then he extends his hand. "My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and I do hope that you're nothing like your brother, or my father will be hearing about this. Then again, you  _are_  in Slytherin, so, I guess you must be alright."

Harry shakes his hand. 

"Alright, kiddies. Let's go." A Prefect is at the front of the two lines of Slytherins, and she turns to lead them into the dungeons, waving a hand as a gesture for them to follow. 

Harry takes in the surroundings as they walk, watching tapestries and suits of armour give way to wall sconces bearing torches and an abundance of portraits. It's colder, in the dungeons, and a bit dark and damp, but he doesn't mind. It's no worse than it was at home. 

A portrait of a pretty girl in a light blue skirt and white shirt waves as they pass. 

"No need to be shy, go on. Wave back, they don't bite," chuckles the other Prefect. 

Harry waves. 

They come to what seems to be yet another wall of grey stone, but this time, they stop. The female presses her palm against the wall and it glows under her touch, shimmering violet, and teal, and black. There's a flicker of red, too, and as the colours die out, she turns to them, her smile soft. 

"Everyone has to have a go, so as you head on through, you touch it like I did, and the castle will learn your magical signature and recognise it whenever you want in. Of course, we also have a password, because it never hurts to be too careful. It's "pureblood"," she says, imperceptibly rolling her eyes, "and though that's just in case of emergencies, you _have_ to say it this first time, alright?" 

Her eyes scan the small crowd of students, and she nods. 

"Alright." 

As they step through, Harry stares at his palm as it comes off the wall, which continues to glow, cycling through the colours of the rainbow as each hand slips over it. He mumbles the password, staring down at his hand, shining Killing Curse green, and Gryffindor crimson and deep, deep grey. 

The Slytherin common room is a much better temperature than the hallways that lead to it. It's the sort of cool that's just shy of chilly, and is perfect for curling into a blanket and taking a long, comfortable nap.

The wall to his right is a bookshelf, floor to ceiling, corner to corner, and the books it holds vary in size, shape, colour and behaviour, even. Some toss themselves from the mahogany shelves only to flutter right back into place and go again, and others flip through their pages while still in place, impatiently waiting to be read.

The wall to his left is glass, showing off the the depths of the Great Lake. A mermaid swims past, and then, another and another, until an entire school of them is staring through the window. Some wave, others make silly faces, and a few are making motions with their hands that Harry only vaguely recognises. A shadow sweeps over them, and they scatter, making way for the Giant Squid.

The final wall, directly across from the entrance, houses the fireplace which separates the staircases that lead deeper underground to the dormitories. The wall is peppered with portraits, their subjects ranging from prim, proper lords and ladies to cheery, smug students, and there is the low rumble of chatter in the background.

The Prefects leave them standing in the Common Room, and as Harry watches them go, a hand lands in his shoulder.

"Marvellous, isn't it? Much better than whatever Gryffindor's got, if you ask me." Draco's grinning as he says it, and hesitantly, Harry smiles back. 

The Prefects step back into view, a group of six talking quietly amongst themselves. The girl that had led them down to the Common Room claps her hands together and stepped forward, seemingly appointed spokesperson. 

"The Professor will be here shortly. So, in the meantime, I'm Yri, and these are Jericho, Jay, Maya, Milo and Remi. Jericho and I are the Fifth Year Prefects, Jay and Maya, the Sixth Years, and Milo and Remi, the Seventh Years. If you have any problems, you are welcome to come find us, although we," here, she paused to gesture between herself, Jericho, Milo and Remi, "might sometimes be unavailable due to the fact that we'll be studying for our OWLs and NEWTs, okay? The staircase to your left leads to the girls' dormitory, and the one to the right is the boys'. And... that's all for now, I suppose. Thank you." 

She bows, nodding at someone Harry couldn't see, and steps back to join the group of Prefects. 

"Good evening, students. I am Professor Severus Snape."

There had been the signature hushed chatter and quiet snickers of children eager to catch up with friends while Yri was speaking, a somehow familiar sound. Now, it is silent as the Professor opens his mouth to continue to speak. Even the portraits have hushed, and Harry can see why. The man is quite intimidating, all sharp angles and billowy black robes, and there was something to his voice that compelled you to listen. 

"I teach the subject of Potions, and I will be your Head of House until you graduate. This is only a short address, simply meant to introduce you to the ways of Slytherin House, and to refamiliarise our returning students as _every_ year, some of you somehow inevitably manage to forget.

"The full list of rules is posted on the Wall of Portraits, and I expect every single one of you to have memorised it by the end of this week. The most important of these will be the ones discussed tonight. See to it that you do not forget them. 

"Rule number one: We present a united front at _all_ times. Infighting is to be avoided at all costs, _however_ , if, and _only_ if it is completely unavoidable, you will do so only within the confines of this Common Room. You all have a certain degree of responsibility for your Housemates, and you are not allowed to disregard each other's wellbeing. A bad image of the House casts a bad reflection on you, so it is in your best interests to follow this particular rule to the letter. 

"Rule number two: Take pride in your House. You're likely to face prejudice during your time here, but do not allow that to tarnish your vision of yourselves or your Housemates. You have the ambition to put a Ravenclaw's knowledge and intelligence to good use, and the persistence and drive of any Hufflepuff to ensure that it gets done. You also have a Gryffindor's boldness, though it is expressed far differently. All of these traits are what makes a Slytherin, and it is because you possess these traits that you are here. Be proud of yourselves and your collective accomplisments, as very few others will." 

The Professor stops to take a breath, and as he surveys the students paying rapt attention to him, nods once, curt and decisive. 

"Remember these rules, stick to your values and you will do well here. Once you descend the staircase, you will find that your dormitories are further divided by year. Your names will be on the doors, so I trust you'll be able to find your ways from there, and I expect everyone to be in bed by ten o' clock. If you are still out and about by then, you will be issued detention." 

Incredulous and worried whispers began to circulate, mainly protesting the idea of detention on their first night at Hogwarts. 

"Welcome to Slytherin," the Professor says, one side of his mouth curled up in a small smirk, "and to our returning students, welcome back." 

Draco is still hovering near Harry's shoulder, and as everyone begins to filter out of the Common Room, he idly chatters at another boy, this one dark-skinned and occasionally interested in what the blond has to say.

Aside, Harry ponders over the Professor and his speech, and he smirks to himself, thinking that his mishearing of the Professor's name as Professor Snake wasn't too far off the mark in any way. It doesn't take very long for Harry to locate his dorm, which he shares with Draco and the boy he'd been speaking to, and no time at all to get his things unpacked. 

He flops onto his bed, and tosses and turns a bit, worried about what Lily and James would think despite what the Hat said, and eventually drifts off to sleep to the distant sound of steadily flowing water. 


End file.
